


Pieces of the Lives

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [191]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Mementos, cleaning up the bunker, end of season ten, post Stein murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: Sam's cleaning the Bunker after the damage the Steins and Dean did. Sorting things into piles, trying to break his problems into manageable chunks.





	Pieces of the Lives

**Author's Note:**

> This is another piece from Tumblr.
> 
> Set end of season ten, post the Stein murders.

Sam didn’t expect any difference when he made it back–Cas _had_  called him–but still, the silence of the Bunker is jarring.

Cas is already gone, apparently now well convinced Dean needs to be stopped. And Sam is left alone, in the silence, to look over the mess.

At least they didn’t burn it, Sam supposes, although he rather they burnt it all than Dean give in, kill them all.

The bodies are the first thing Sam has to deal with. Dragging the two older one outside, lighting them up. Sam feels some revulsion, but not much in the way of sympathy. They were in their home. _Home._ It might not be much of a home–what’s home if you still sleep with a gun under your pillow?–but he’s trying, and they came in and invaded.

The kid, though–Cyrus. His name is Cyrus. And he didn’t deserve this, Sam knows that much. Seventeen, probably, and Cas told Sam everything. Killed because of what’s inside him.

Once, that might have stung Sam for himself, but now the irony just tastes bitter. _But you’re fine, Dean, right?_

He has to save his brother.

He builds a pyre for the kid, gives him a hunter’s funeral, some respect. It’s the best he can do. Then he returns to the Bunker, to see the mess left behind.

Dean’s things, everywhere. Sam doesn’t know if they missed his own room, just deemed it a closet, or didn’t even bother to look, but he supposes it doesn’t much matter.

Shirts go in one pile. Some of them have blood in them, but Sam can maybe wash it. Blood comes out. 

The books Sam leaves. The books, the precious books, Sam’s only reason for feeling more of a passing tie to this place, can wait. They need serious help, although Sam’s glad they aren’t damaged worse, but they can wait.

Records and tapes go into another pile. Blood or no blood, these are Dean’s, his heart and soul, his lifeblood pumps to these songs. They will be saved.

The pictures, though–Sam’s heart breaks just a little bit more, and he wasn’t even sure it could still do that, fractured and sore as it is, as it has been. Mary and Dean. Mary, Dean, and _him,_  so small he has no memory, but he wishes he could, just any little detail, something to hold onto–

These pictures were in Dean’s room, and Sam supposes he could have seen them at any time, on display as they were. But they’re Dean’s, just like all memories of Mary are Dean’s. He had four years with her, and Sam got her killed, it’s only right.

Sam traces his fingers over the little boy, the boy he can’t remember, and feels like crying. That little boy is a good man, really, he is, he _can_  be, but right now, he’s a danger to himself, and mostly to others.

He nearly killed Cas. He killed a seventeen year old kid, he killed somewhere close to twenty people today.

And Dean needs to be stopped. Reminded of that little boy, the one who loved his mom and maybe was excited to have a baby brother, the kid whose eyes were still bright and innocent.

Sam sets the pictures aside. He’s not letting Dean lose those, not now, not when he needs them the most.


End file.
